


Coffee And Iron

by GlimmeringSteam



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e04 Day of Wrath, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Canon Compliant, Unresolved Sexual Tension, empty alleyways ripe with opportunity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9595760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlimmeringSteam/pseuds/GlimmeringSteam
Summary: (a.k.a In Which Simon and Raphael Become Intimately Acquainted with a Brick Wall.) What exactly happened when Magnus sent Raphael and Simon to Catarina’s? Well, all that pent-up aggression and sexual tension has to go somewhere….;) Missing scene from 2x04.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Update (3/7/16): As I am sure you all know by know, Raphael is now canonically asexual! Which is wonderful!! Therefore, this fic is no longer canon-compliant. I am going to leave it up, but please know I would never have written Raphael as non-ace if I had known what we do now. 
> 
> Because Simon and Raphael need more screen time, but they don't get it. 
> 
> A million thanks to CarpeDiemForLife for beta-ing!! You are ze best!!
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are very welcome and much appreciated!

Simon pounded on the grey-blue door in frustration. He had knocked five times, rung the doorbell six, and still no response came from within. The apartment lights were out and there was no indication of a warlock being in residence.

He whirled around to face Raphael. “Where _is_ she?” he demanded, half at his fellow vampire and half at the darkened, empty alleyway. The calm Simon had tried to maintain for Magnus’ sake was starting to slip. He was exhausted, consumed with guilt over missing his family dinner, and still furious that Raphael had dared to threaten his mother.

Raphael gazed levelly at Simon from where he leaned against the brick wall. “Catarina? Not here, obviously,” he said coolly.

“Then why are _we_? And where are we going to get these ingredients? I’m pretty sure Rite-Aid doesn’t have twice-blessed water!” Simon said, voice rising in pitch and volume as he descended the porch steps.

Raphael sighed and took the paper from Simon. He tore it into shreds in a fraction of a second, his pale fingers blurring with the speed. “Magnus doesn’t need those.” He turned and began to walk away.

The rage that had barely cooled in Simon rose again, and he grabbed Raphael’s shoulders, hard, spinning him around. “What the hell? What do you mean, doesn’t need them? Why did he send us here then?!”

Raphael shoved Simon away. “Don’t. Touch me,” he hissed. He was close to his breaking point, the anger kindled by his earlier torture threatening to burst into flame.

“Then answer me,” Simon said, clenching his fist.

“Like I said, Magnus doesn’t need these ingredients. I’m sure he’s already captured Camille and sent her to Idris.”

“So why--?”

“Did it ever cross your mind that he might not want an audience for this? He is most likely condemning her to death,” Raphael said with contempt.

“But…how do you know he’ll actually do it? He still loves her, you know,” Simon said, worried.

Raphael’s dark eyes flashed. “Magnus always keeps his word. Don’t _ever_ suggest otherwise,” he warned, spitting out the words.

Simon wondered at his fierce loyalty. What exactly was Raphael’s and Magnus’ relationship? Why had Raphael turned to Magnus for aid when he was hurt?

Then another thought occurred to him and he took a step towards Raphael, using his scant advantage in height to be as imposing as was possible for the slender vampire. “And you couldn’t have _told_ me that? You decided to lead me on a wild goose-chase instead?” he demanded incredulously.

In point of fact, Raphael had only suspected that Magnus was sending them out under false pretenses, but he saw no reason to correct Simon’s assumption.

“I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t try to go back,” he said, shrugging and shifting his weight.

“Stop treating me like a kid,” Simon growled, the tendons on his neck standing out. He gritted his teeth, using every ounce of self-control to not give in to his bloodthirsty instincts. He was shocked by the urge to bite, to drain, to incapacitate the man in front of him. Raphael seemed to think he could demand that Simon capture Camille single-handedly and then keep him out of the loop because he couldn’t be trusted to not behave impulsively.

“Why should I? You’ve been utterly useless. Here I am, nearly burnt to a crisp because of _you_!” Raphael jabbed his finger into Simon’s chest. Not only that, but because Simon hadn’t been successful he had had to ask Magnus to betray someone he loved. His guilt and the throbbing of his burnt face gnawed away at him.

 “I’m the one who found the frickin’ grave dirt!” Simon exclaimed indignantly.

“Only because of Magnus,” Raphael taunted, crossing his arms. A surge of adrenaline scorched through him, readying his body for a struggle. His anger needed an outlet, needed a way to expel all his pain and frustration and helplessness. “You’re completely incompetent on your own.”

 “You asshole,” Simon hissed, baring his fangs. “Stop acting like you’re so much better than me!”

Raphael lunged, pinning Simon to the wall, his forearm pressing into Simon’s chest and his other hand shackling Simon’s upper arm, fingers squeezing mercilessly.

“Don’t insult me, newblood,” he snarled. “You have no idea what it means to be a vampire, to live under the threat of the Clave.”

Simon wrenched his hand free and almost pushed him away, but Raphael caught his wrist and slammed it against the bricks. Simon bared his fangs, hissing and struggling against Raphael’s hold, but the older vampire’s age and build meant that he was held captive.

Staring into the snarling face, mere inches from his own, Raphael was reminded of when Simon rose from his grave, starving and savagely beautiful. How he inhaled the blood Raphael gave him, desperate to fill his insatiable hunger.

The same ferocity transformed Simon’s face again, caught in the impulse to attack. His exposed fangs gleamed white against the deep pink flesh of his mouth. His pupils were dilated to animalistic saucers. All this contrasted with the fact that, somehow, he still smelled of coffee. A mundane vampire if there ever was one. Innocent yet wild. _Mine,_ thought Raphael.

The desire to attack shifted ever so slightly, and became a need.

Raphael knew what he wanted, and decided to take it. He removed his forearm from Simon’s chest and grabbed the front of his leather jacket, yanking him forward. And before Simon could take advantage of the vanished restraint, pressed his mouth to Simon’s. Hard.

 “What the--!” Simon spluttered, jerking away. But Raphael would have none of it, and kissed him again in an onslaught of warmth and sensation. He was pleased to note that Simon’s slightly chapped lips tasted of coffee.

The heat of anger roared within Simon, but it wasn’t anger anymore—at least, not completely. Raphael’s mouth was softer than he would ever have imagined, as soft as Clary’s had always looked. He slammed that thought to the back of his mind, locking it away behind an steel door. Clary, lovely but unattainable, had no place in this. Raphael was here, and any reluctance Simon might have had was melting as he moved his mouth insistently against Simon’s, slanting over and ravaging his lips. And when Raphael parted his mouth with his tongue, grazing Simon’s own, he surrendered to the intoxication.

He grabbed the shorter vampire’s hair in his fist, and ferociously moved his lips against Raphael’s, battling for dominance. He moaned slightly as he allowed himself to take and take and take of Raphael, devouring the iron-tinged taste of him.

Raphael grabbed Simon’s hip, pulling him flush against his body with almost violent force. Simon’s hand moved to Raphael’s upper arm and he was surprised at how much he enjoyed the feel of solid muscle there, cloaked by silky cloth. It was, in fact, the exact suit Simon had borrowed for Alec’s wedding.

Raphael’s cool fingers skimmed under the edge of Simon’s black t-shirt, brushing the skin above his hip bone, and Simon’s breath quickened.

Raphael shoved Simon back against the wall and started kissing his neck, and the contrast between the rough brick and the warm, silky caresses drugged Simon into insensibility. His right arm moved almost of its own volition to Raphael’s lower back, pulling him even closer, as the fingers of his left hand stroked the skin at the back of Raphael’s neck.

Raphael’s phone buzzed and Simon startled, pulling away.

Raphael removed his hand from Simon’s hip and pulled out his phone. The message was from Magnus. “It’s done,” read Raphael aloud.

The two vampires regarded each other cautiously,

“Uhhhhh….” said Simon, trailing off. Raphael smirked.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” he said, and vanished into the night.


End file.
